


there's no place like home

by inmyfashion



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Fluff, Mike's Indonesian Family is Represented Here, fake dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmyfashion/pseuds/inmyfashion
Summary: Mike needs a fake date to his grandmother's 90th birthday and turns to the only person he'd think of to help him out.*Repost*





	there's no place like home

**Author's Note:**

> I wish Pitch had let MPG keep his Indonesian heritage, so I'm hoping to honor that a little bit here in this AU. They're still baseball players, but Mike's family dynamic has changed. He has a habit of being loved by/loving strong women. I hope you still enjoy this reposted story. x

Mike’s brow furrows as he hears his phone vibrate in his cubby. The word ‘mom’ flashes across the screen so he wastes no time, and quickly hits the ‘answer’ button.

“Halo, ma. Apa kabar?” he says hurriedly. “What's wrong?”

“Michael,” his mother replies in an even tone. “Tidak ada. Why would anything be wrong?”

Mike lets out a breath and leans back against the plush leather chair. The clubhouse rapidly empties post their impressive win over the Giants, but Mike takes his time, wanting to savor the last two months he's got as a Padre. "Because you never call in the middle of the day. Usually, you wait until the evening to chastise me."

“You're my favorite child,” his mother says with a laugh. “I would never chastise you.”

"I'm your only child, ma, but that's beside the point. What's up?"

“Your grandmother wants to know why you've not RSVP’d for her birthday celebration and wants to know who you're bringing.”

Mike bites back a groan and counts backward from five. "Ma, we're in the middle of winning streak and--"

“Michael Lawson,” she interrupts. “Your grandmother is turning 90 years old. This is only happening once, and it may very well be her last birthday, so--”

“We both know that gram gram is going to outlive us both,” Mike jokes. “Besides, I think she’ll understand. She wants to see her grandson win another World Series.”

“She wants to see her grandson get married and have children,” she replies immediately. “You’re coming to this, Michael. Please? Also, your grandmother has already invited several of her bridge partners’ granddaughters. I’m letting you know this in advance because I am a loving mother.”

"Ma," Mike groans. "Come on. Can you please tell her to un-invite them? Please?"

“No can do, Michael,” she tsks. “Ibu is convinced that the love of your life is amongst these women and that she can get at least one great grandchild from you before she passes from this world. Her words.”

“I don’t think my girlfriend is going to appreciate other girls getting thrown at me during my grandmother’s birthday party.” He doesn’t know why he says it, but the words trip out of his mouth before he can reel them back in.

“A girlfriend!” his mother exclaims. “Who? When! Oh Michael, if it’s not Ginny, then--”

The relationship that developed between his mother and his rookie is a peculiar one and one he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried.

When Ginny’s injury took her out of the rest of her rookie season, his mother took it upon herself to help out when Mike told her he’d be helping Ginny. She made soups and care packages and wrote Ginny long rambling emails that he was never allowed to see, but glanced from time to time over her shoulder.

Mike hunches over in his seat and places his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, ma, it’s Ginny, but—”

A loud clatter makes Mike pull the phone quickly from his ear. He can hear a string of muffled Indonesian words and his mother’s voice grow fainter.

“Hello?” a gruff voice says into the phone. Mike smiles and returns his step-father’s greeting. “You've broken your mother, I think.”

"Hey Tom," Miks responds with a laugh. "What's she doing?"

"Well, she's speaking to your grandmother while tapping away at her cell phone. You really shouldn't have shown her how to text. I think she's sending a very long message to someone."

Mike looks up in the direction of Ginny’s space and winces. “Tom, I've got to go. Tell mom I'll call her later, alright?”

“Alright, son. We’ll be seeing you.”

Mike ends the call and slides his phone back into his cubby before standing with a groan and moving towards Ginny’s changing room.

He raps out a shave-and-a-haircut rhythm with light knuckles against her door. He hears shuffling on the other side before it swings open to reveal Ginny, dirt streaked, still dressed from the game.

“So I just got the most interesting series of text messages,” Ginny begins before Mike even has a chance to say anything. “All from Belinda Lawson-Mayer, lots of caps lock, and words I'm sure are Indonesian, but the message is mostly clear. So, when did we start dating, captain?”

Mike feels heat crawl up his neck and prickle beneath his beard. He walks into her space and shuts the door behind him, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he begins slowly. “This all has a very simple explanation.”

“Does it also involve me having to go home with you next weekend?” Ginny asks with a lift of an eyebrow.

“Damn it, she's fast.”

“Why does your mom think we’re a couple, Mike?”

“Because I told her we’re dating.”

“Okay, that's simple enough, I suppose,” she says in an exasperated tone. “My next question is why? Also what the hell?”

“Okay, so I got a little hasty and said what I said because my gram-gram is trying to set me up with one of her bridge partners’ grandkids and I can't go through that again, Baker.”

“And that translates to you and I dating because…”

“Because it was the only way out of being set up with someone I'd have absolutely no interest in or some woman who'll cry throughout dinner,” Mike explains.

Ginny frowns. “You made some woman cry during dinner?”

“No,” he sneers out the reply. “I'm not a total jerk. She cried because she'd just broken up with her boyfriend. Cried all night.”

“All night, huh? You slept with her even though she cried at you during dinner?”

“Not the point—”

“You are so—”

"The point is," he cuts her off, then takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I need your help. You're the only one who can help me. My mom already loves you, obviously, and it's just for a weekend. Please? I'll owe you big time. I'll give you whatever you want, just name it. Just, do me this solid, yeah?"

“No.” Ginny shakes her head. “Absolutely not, Mike. No way.”

“Baker, come on. I'd do this for you.”

“Yeah, and you'd hold it over my head forever and torture me with the knowledge that I had to ask you in the first place, which yes, I will also be doing to you.”

“I need you to do this for me. Please. Do I need to beg?”

“What happened to your full Rolodex of women, Lawson?”

“Rolodex?”

Ginny shrugs. “You're old. I figured you still probably have one of those somewhere full of handwritten numbers from women who would just love to get in on being Mike Lawson’s girlfriend.”

“You're a fucking gem, rook. And no, I don't have anyone else to ask.”

“That's actually kind of sad.”

“You are the most annoying, but I need you, Baker. You're my best friend. Who else do you expect me to ask?”

Ginny bites her lip and shakes her head. "This is ridiculous, Mike. You're a grown man, and I don't like lying to your mother. She's so good to me. She sends me Tim Tams almost every other week, and—"

“My mother sends you cookies and you don't share them?”

“She tells me not to share them with you,” Ginny says with a shrug as if it's the most normal thing in the world. “She says you're a bad sharer.”

“Okay, well, now you owe me, rook,” Mike growls. “And you can pay me back by being my girlfriend for a weekend. It's a great deal. You'll get the full on Mike Lawson experience without the excessive drama.”

“Somehow I don't think that's even a little true because where there's Mike Lawson, there's drama. Exhibit A—needing a pretend girlfriend because you can't stand up to your grandmother.”

"Rookie," he begins in the low voice. He brings his hands to her upper arms and squeezes gently. "You'll find out soon enough no one says no to my grandma. Please, I'm begging you because I can't take one more bad set up from her and then her calling to curse me out in both English and Indonesian. Please?" He softens his eyes and tilts his head in just the way he knows Ginny isn't immune to.

She grits her teeth and rolls her eyes for good measure. “Fine,” she capitulates. “But you so owe me.”

-G&M-

“Can you stick to just one radio station, rookie. Please? You're giving me a headache?”

“I'm sorry, but are you breaking one of the rules set forth for this weekend of lies already?”

Mike grumbles and grips the steering wheel harder. The trip to Long Beach should only take a couple of hours, but getting out of San Diego post their series win over the Giants proved a little harder than necessary.

After agreeing to the subterfuge, Ginny set forth rules for the weekend and qualifications for keeping up appearances.

One of the rules was no criticizing her choices, mostly because she could.

“You have horrible taste in music, Baker.”

“Uh uh uh,” she says with a wag of her finger. “My loving, doting boyfriend would never make fun of my music tastes.”

“Would he make fun of your terrible humming?”

Ginny gasps. “I don't hum terribly.”

“It's so bad, Baker. I can hear dogs whining in the next county when you hum.”

She pouts and turns to face the window, crossing her arms for good measure.

“I can't wait to fake break up on Sunday,” she says and it makes Mike bark out a laugh.

“Already working out ways to get rid of me?” Mike asks as he spares a glance at her profile.

“Almost always,” Ginny replies with a sigh. “So far, you're just an okay boyfriend.”

“Uh, I am an excellent boyfriend, thank you. What part of the Mike Lawson experience are you wanting to try out?” He tosses a wink her way and she rolls her eyes.

“Please stop referring to yourself in the third person. You didn't even compliment my choice of attire.”

Mike takes another quick survey of her and gets caught off guard again by the expanse of her long, brown legs and the start of her strong, shapely thighs beneath the pale yellow dress. He nearly swallowed his tongue when she emerged from her changing room. Mike's so used to seeing her in uniform or workout gear, it's own form of sexy, that Ginny in a dress momentarily addled his brain.

Mike clears his throat and tries to shake away the feeling settling low in his stomach. “I compliment you all the time, Baker.”

“Backhanded compliments don't count, old man.”

“You look wonderful,” he says softly. “Sometimes I forget you have legs.”

“So close, and then you have to go and be you.”

Mike chuckles and reaches across the console. He settles a big hand on her thigh, palm facing up. He wiggles his fingers and waits for her to reciprocate, and when she does, when she slides her lithe, calloused hand into his, his heart starts to pound harder, heavier. He twines their fingers together and ignores the warmth radiating in his chest.

“You do look great, Baker,” he says sincerely. “But you know you didn't have to dress up special or anything like that, my mom and Tom won't mind, and you could probably show up in a sack and my grandmother will love you. She's a huge Ginny Baker fan. Bought your jersey and everything. She didn't even buy mine, I had to give her one.”

Ginny squeezes his hand and lets out a little laugh. “Tell me about her.”

"You'll like her, Baker," Mike begins. "She's feisty and smart. She might be 90, but she shows no signs of slowing down. She volunteers at the senior center near her house to help ‘those poor old folks with bad hips.' Her words. She married young and my grandfather passed before I was born. She never remarried and she goes out to his gravesite every year without fail on their wedding anniversary. She likes to give me a hard time, too. Because she can."

“I am going to adore this woman.”

-G&M-

Mike parks the car in the circular drive and turns off the engine before he glances over at Ginny. She's gnawing on her bottom lip and worrying the edge of her dress with her fingers.

“Hey,” Mike says softly. He reaches over and pushes his thumb against her bottom lip to free it from her teeth. “It's going to be fine. I promise. Just be you.”

She rolls her eyes punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Such a cheeseball. Let's go, old man.” She moves to exit the car, but Mike stops her with a gentle hand at her elbow.

“The blinds are moving,” he says with a nod towards the house. “I'll open your door. My mom would murder me if I didn't.”

He watches Ginny fight a grin and narrows his eyes at her. “Oh, I can't wait to take full advantage of this sudden chivalry.”

“I'm always chivalrous, rookie. I pull out chairs and open doors—”

“And sleep with crying women.”

Mike sighs, opens his door and gets out, slamming it behind him with more force than necessary. He waves towards the two faces he sees in the window as he walks around the car to Ginny’s door.

He helps Ginny down even though she doesn't really need it, conscious that their every move is being examined. He takes her hand again with ease and tangles their fingers once more as they make the short journey to the front door.

The curtains fall back into place as they near the front door and Ginny giggles when the door swings open seconds later.

"Ginny!" Belinda Lawson exclaims, her arms spread wide as she rushes to the younger woman. "Oh, it's so good to see you again. How are you? You look beautiful. What a lovely color on you. Are you hungry? I've been cooking all afternoon, didn't know what you'd want to eat, but Mike said to make sure there was plenty of bakpao because it's your favorite, and I—"

“Ma,” Mike interrupts with a gentle hand on his mother's shoulder. “Relax. Baker isn't—”

His mother gasps and he stops speaking mid-sentence. "What?"

“You call your girlfriend by her last name? Michael. Itu tidak sopan.”

Mike's face flushes with color and his shoulders hitch closer to his ears. “Maaf bu.”

His mother harrumphs and pulls Ginny into a hug. “I hope my son is treating you well, Ginny. You let me know if he isn't, alright?”

Ginny hugs Belinda back and smiles. “I promise to let you know, but so far, I have no complaints.”

“None at all?” Belinda asks with just a hint of incredulity in her voice.

“Oh that's nice, Ma,” Mike responds.

"I didn't mean it like that, Michael," she says with a quick pat on his arm. "I'm happy about it. Rachel almost always had something to complain about."

The mention of Rachel doesn't send the spike of hurt or anxiety through him that it once did. The brief, tumultuous six-month reunion petered out with a whimper instead of the bang their marriage ended on. The distance between them was much too vast to conquer this time around, and Mike slowly realized that Rachel was never the person he'd dreamed her to be.

“Well,” Ginny begins, throwing a saucy wink his way. “Mike's certainly more than I expected. He's very good to me, I promise. He’s even promised to help me remodel that little carriage house I found. Remember the pictures I sent you?”

Mike frowns and shakes his head as his mother and Ginny walk arm in arm into the house. He figures he knows his payment for this ruse now, helping Ginny with her new place.

“Michael,” a slightly husky voice calls out as he makes his way over the threshold.

“Nenek,” Mike says and presses a kiss to his grandmother’s cheek.

"You don't call me enough," Mike's grandmother, Gita Hardjo, says with a hard pat on her grandson's cheek. "I get everything second hand from your mother who obviously embellishes the truth. Except when it comes to Ginny. She's far too beautiful for you. How'd you manage that?" She winks at him and Mike laughs.

“Just lucky, I suppose.”

“I see you're still fully committed to this beard as well.” She gives it a sharp tug Mike winces. He steps back from her and offers her his arm.

“Would you like to meet your idol, nenek?”

She pushes him away with a snicker. “I'm not old enough to need to use you as a crutch just yet, Michael. Your mother has been cooking all day. Let's go get some food before she gives it all to your pretty girlfriend.”

When Mike and his grandmother enter the kitchen they find Ginny seated at the breakfast nook, a plate piled high with food in front of her.

She tosses Mike a contented smile and stands as he approaches her with his grandmother. “Gin,” he begins and she lifts an eyebrow at him. “I’d like you to meet my gram gram, Gita. Nenek, Ginny Baker in the flesh.”

Ginny stands and holds her hand out to the older woman only to have it pushed aside and arms slung around her in a tight embrace.

Ginny ekes out a muffled greeting she had Mike teach her. “Senang bertemu dengan Anda.”

"Oh!" Gita exclaims as she hugs Ginny tighter. "That was perfect! It's so lovely to meet you, Ginny. You're my favorite Padre."

Mike takes Ginny's seat at the breakfast nook and rolls his eyes. "Thanks, gram gram."

“Hush,” she chides him as she pulls back from Ginny. “You’re alright, too.”

Ginny laughs and Mike pokes her lightly in the side. "How easily I've been pushed aside for you, rook."

“Somehow I think you'll survive, old man.”

“Oh yes,” Gita starts. “I like you, Ginny. Unafraid to put my grandson in his place is always a welcome trait.”

Ginny smiles over at Mike and he simply shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest as he takes in the scene in front of him.

His mother continues to bustle around the kitchen, setting aside dishes for his grandmother’s party the next day from things she made for Ginny more than him for the evening.

“I know you're probably both exhausted,” Belinda says as she sets a much less full plate in front of Mike. She pats his cheek lovingly. “You played a wonderful game, sweetheart. We’re so proud.”

“I wore my Ginny Baker jersey today,” Gita states proudly. “Have for every game since you won your ring last year. I figure I'm your unofficial good luck charm.” She winks at Ginny.

“I think you just might be,” Ginny replies and beams proudly at Mike.

“Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up, babe.” The endearment flows so easily from his lips that he doesn't even hear it, doesn't notice it until his mother's contented sigh makes him playback his words.

He finds he likes the way it sounds.

“Well,” Belinda begins again. “I know you both probably want rest, the guest room is all ready for you, and I thought maybe we could order something out of you want other food since most of this is for ibu’s party tomorrow.”

“That'd be great, ma. Thank you,” Mike answers. “I'm going to go get our bags from the car, Gin.”

“Want my help?”

He shakes his head and stands with a groan. When he nears her, he dips his head and brushes his lips over her brow. When he pulls back, his lips are tingling.  

-G&M-

“Somehow I failed to think about having to share a room with you,” Ginny says as she pushes open the bedroom door.

The guest room is airy and light, generic, but still pretty done in tones of gray and a muted greens.

Mike hadn't really thought of it either—had sought to avoid thinking about it, in truth—but now it seemed like a misstep to have overlooked it. Especially as they stand in front of the large, pillow filled bed at the center of the room.

"It's only for a couple of nights," he murmurs more to himself than her. He clears his throat and sets their bags down at the foot of the bed. "I can sleep on the floor if--"

“Mike,” Ginny interrupts. “We both know you'll complain endlessly if you sleep on the floor. Besides, think of it as punishment for lying to your family. I’ve been told that I am a spontaneous cuddler and clingy bedmate.”

Mike manages to school his expression, trying not to picture waking up surrounded by Ginny. And yet, he still asks a question he really doesn't want the answer to. “Had a lot of complaints about being clingy in bed?”

Ginny shakes head. “No complaints. Just people letting me know.” Ginny slides off the low boots she paired with her dress, a combination Mike finds endearing and so incredibly her.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, staying there for a moment before she flops onto the bed and throws an arm across her face.

“I'm so tired,” she says with a groan. “Your grandmother is hilarious, by the way.”

"Yeah," Mike says with a sigh. His eyes drift over the exposed skin of her taut thighs from her dress drifting up her legs. He clears his throat and moves his gaze to her face. "She's pretty great. She's an even bigger fan of yours now."

Ginny laughs and rolls onto her side. “She asked me how we started dating. I feel bad lying to her, Mike. She's so lovely.”

Mike reclines back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. “Then don't lie, Ginny.”

Ginny leans over Mike, scooting her body into his side as she does. “Are you losing touch with reality, old man? We're not dating.”

"Yes, I know that," he replies with a tug at the loose curl of her hair that drifts over his face. "But, you're my best friend and we spend a lot of time together. We don't have to make this some overly complicated thing. We started dating because you couldn't resist me any longer."

Ginny shoves his hand away and tugs hard at his beard before she scoots away. "You're so annoying."

Mike laughs and turns onto his side to face her. "Honestly though, we'll say it just happened. And it felt right. It's as simple as that."

She runs a finger down his beard and gives him a weak smile. “Okay.”

He rests a big hand on Ginny’s hip, his thumb stroking over the defined bone. “Thank you, Gin. For doing this,” he says sincerely. “You could’ve said no, but—”

“I could've said no?” she exclaims cheekily. “Now you tell me. We both know I couldn't have. And I suppose I wouldn't either. You are my best friend, I guess I couldn't just leave you to face all this alone. Plus I get great food and free future labor from you out of it. And your mom promised me baby pictures.”

“You're going to irritate me all weekend, huh?” he snarks as he squeezes her hip.

"Plan on it, Lawson." She drops a kiss on his brow before she sits up and goes for her bag. "Do I need to change for dinner?"

“Why would you? You're not eating dinner with the queen. You look great.”

She looks over her shoulder at him and smirks. She waits for a beat before replying. "I can't believe you just paid me an actual compliment. Are you feeling alright?"

“I'm starting to think you have selective hearing,” Mike responds. “That's twice now I've complimented your dress.”

“First time doesn't count. You were being you. Now you're being a good boyfriend. Keep it up.”

“You're right in the middle of the Mike Lawson Experience, Baker. Just you wait.”

“Seriously, you dork. Cut it out with the third person already.”

-G&M-

When they arrive back downstairs to the kitchen, Mike's stepdad Tom is walking into the house with a couple of pizza boxes in hand.

“Mike,” Tom says congenially. He sets the pizza boxes down on the breakfast nook.“It's nice you see you, son. Congrats on the big win today.”

"Thank you, Tom," Mike replies. He puts a hand low on Ginny's back and steps closer to her. "Tom, this is Ginny Baker. Ginny, my stepdad Tom Mayer."

“Hello, Mr. Mayer,” Ginny begins, holding her hand out to him. “It's very nice to meet you.”

Tom Mayer is about Mike’s height, with snow white hair and kind hazel eyes.

“It's Tom, please,” he says and grasps her hand firmly. “It's lovely to finally meet you, Ginny. My wife talks about you all the time. You're one hell of a pitcher.”

Ginny blushes and it makes Mike chuckle. He so rarely sees her flustered. “Don't let it go to your head, rookie.”

“I won't. You have enough ego for the both of us, old man.”

“Oh!” Gita laughs from across the room. “If you ever let this woman get away, Michael, I'll disown you.”

Ginny falls into Mike's side and turns her face into his arm, trying to stop her laughter at his grandmother’s words.

“I get no respect around here,” Mike mutters and it makes Ginny laugh harder.

Tom jostles Mike's other shoulder and shakes his head before making his way towards his wife. Even he knows better.

“And why do you still call her a rookie, Michael?” his grandmother asks. “She's been playing for three years now. Hardly a rookie.”

“It's a term of endearment, nenek,” Mike returns. His hand drifts to Ginny’s hip and he gives it a squeeze and pulls her closer to him. “She's my rookie.”

“I still want to know the whole story of how this came to be,” Gita says as she waves a hand at them. “I can't believe you waited three years, Michael. You're lucky Ginny was still single. She's a real catch.”

Ginny wraps her arms around his middle and Mike's mind goes a little fuzzy. “I know. It wasn't easy, I can tell you that for sure.”

“Didn't seem to mind when you were with Rachel again,” his mother mutters just loud enough for him to hear.

He sighs and runs and hand up one of Ginny's arms she has around him. “Things worked out the way they were supposed to.”

Ginny tugs lightly on his beard and the sensation warms him.

“Let’s eat, babe,” he says to her with one last squeeze at her hip. “I can hear your stomach rumbling.”

“Michael!” his mother and grandmother chastise together.

Ginny laughs and untangles her body from Mike’s, moving across the kitchen to sit beside Gita at the breakfast nook.

“I wanted to show you my wedding album,” Gita says once Ginny settles in beside her. “My husband and I were married for thirty years before he passed. And we hardly knew one another before we married.”

“Wow,” Ginny says as she opens the album. “That must have been difficult.”

"In a way," Gita states. "But in a way, that's the way things were. Indonesia had just gained its independence after a four-year war. He fought in that, lost partial vision in his left eye from a piece of shrapnel. When the war finally ended, and with so many lost, those of us still lucky enough to be around hurried and married. Our parents were worried the conflict wasn't really over and they didn't want our meager numbers to grow worse. It was part survival part hope.

"Anyway, Rafi and I, it wasn't about burning passion. Nothing as electric and palpable as between you and my grandson."

Mike’s breath halts in his chest and he sees color rise in Ginny’s cheeks again, but his grandmother continues.

“No, it was two people who barely liked one another becoming friends, and then best friends, and then more. I miss my husband dearly, but I miss my best friend more. Because that was the best and deepest part of our relationship.”

Gita cups Ginny’s cheek lovingly. “I'm glad to know that my Michael is your best friend, too.”

Ginny takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “He is,” she says softly. “He really is.”

-G&M-

Mike lets the sound of Ginny's off-key humming soothe him as he rests on his back in bed. He replays his grandmother's words, thinks about Ginny, and her friendship, and how absolutely dear it is to him.

How much of a foundation it is for what he can finally say he wants.

At the start of the season, Mike announced it would be his last, and he expected something to happen with them; but, when nothing did, he put what he felt aside to the best of his ability and focused on being her friend.

His grandmother was right in that regard, whatever else he could have with Ginny, her friendship would always be the most precious. The most hard won.

“You're thinking pretty hard for this late in the evening,” Ginny says and startles him when she places a finger between his eyebrows. “If you frown any harder, you'll get stuck that way.”

She smells of jasmine and something sweet as she settles in beside him. Her hairline is damp, and when she scoots closer to him, he can feel her warm, minty breath against his shoulder.

“You sleep shirtless?” Her fingers glide across a bruise on his bicep as she asks.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Mike turns to take her in. She shakes her head and continues to draw lazy, nonsensical patterns over his bicep.

“Nope, just wondering. What's the deal with you and your step dad? You're usually a bit warmer with people than that. Haven't they been married for ten years now?”

Mike sighs and moves closer to her on the bed so that she can rest her head against his shoulder. “I like Tom just fine, but I remember every moment of what my mom went through when my dad left. And I guess I'm just overly cautious of her being hurt that way again. She was devastated, and it hurt so much to watch. I don't want to see her go through that again.”

“I get it.”

Mike smiles. “I know, rook, even if the situations aren't the same, I know you get it. How's your mom, by the way?”

He feels Ginny shrug against him and he wrestles his way to his side, pulling a disgruntled sound from her lips. “You took away my pillow, old man.”

“Gin,” he starts softly. “I know you're upset with her, but she's your mom.”

"We're not going there this weekend, Mike," Ginny says. "This weekend is about your grandmother and lying to your family. Not bringing up the drama with mine, okay?"

Mike flicks the end of her nose and she bats his hand away. “It’s not like you’ll never see her again, Gin.”

"How much sense would it make to bring an ex-girlfriend to a family get together, Mike?"

“You’re my best friend. How many times do you need to hear that? You're not going to just disappear from my life or never see my family again. They'd kill me. Especially my grandma.”

“Okay,” she says with a resigned sigh.

He rolls to his back, and Ginny resumes her spot against his shoulder. "It'll be fine, rookie. I promise. Get some rest. You think my grandmother is a handful, wait until you meet her friends."

She snorts against Mike's shoulder and wiggles closer to the side of his body. “I can't wait.”

-G&M-

A soft moan and warm, supple skin beneath his hands make Mike's morning wood twitch. A firm, round backside pressing into his dick draws a moan from him. His name from Ginny's lips pulls him into a wakefulness.

Mike's eyes pop open and it takes a moment for his mind and body to be on the same page. When he moves his hands this time his thumbs brush over Ginny’s pointed nipples beneath her threadbare t-shirt. When her hips shoot back and his cock nestles between the globes of her ass, Mike is fully awake.

"Shit," he breathes out as he draws his hands from beneath her shirt, slowly, so slowly because she's not yet awake, or at least he doesn't believe her to be. He moves his hips away from her perfect ass and flips to his opposite side, hugging the edge of the bed.

His cock grows firmer, missing the warmth of her backside in the cradle of his hips, just as his hands miss the fullness and softness of her breasts in them.

"Fucking hell." Mike presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and breathes in slowly through his nose and exhales through his mouth in an attempt to wrangle the situation in his pants.

“Mike,” Ginny breathes out.

He looks over his shoulder and she's moving restlessly against the bed. She's sending her hips back and forth in slow and concentrated movements. Her breath hitches and she lets out a moan that will inevitably rattle through Mike’s brain for the remainder of his days.

“Mike.” She whimpers this time and then groans before she settles and stops moving.

He needs to get out of bed. He needs to not let his eyes roam her perfect body. He needs to not take in the way her shorts have ridden up her ass or the way her hair is tousled or how perfect she felt against him.

He groans as he levers himself into a seated position, his back cracking, knees aching as he stands. He reaches down to adjust himself in his sleep pants to little effect and quietly makes his way to his open suitcase that rests on a chair in the corner.

“Are there any good running trails around here?” Ginny's voice calls out from the bed and startled him.

"Christ Baker," Mike says. "You almost gave me a heart attack." He looks back to the bed and instantly wishes he hadn't. Ginny's shirt is tucked up just below her tits, her taut belly on display. The covers are down around her knees and all that smooth brown skin is just—

“Mike!”

He snaps back into focus and is grateful to see the sleepy expression on her face. “Running trail, old man.”

Mike clears his throat. “Cut yourself some slack for a couple days, rook. Take a break.”

“I'll just do a couple of miles.” She swings her legs from the bed and stands, arching her back and send her arms over her head as she does.

And fuck if that doesn't make Mike harder. "I'll come with you." His voice is low and husky and honestly, he'd offer to do anything for her at the moment.

She tosses her head and gives him a smile. “Spend time with your folks. Just point me in the right direction and I'll be fine. And I'll take my phone.” She mentions this before he can make the suggestion. “I'll be back before you know it.”

-G&M-

"Where's your too pretty girlfriend?" His grandmother asks in lieu of a good morning when he arrives in the kitchen.

He kisses her cheek before moving to the fridge and taking out the ingredients for a smoothie for Ginny and eggs and avocado toast for himself. “On a run, nenek. But she's on her way back. She texted five minutes ago, should be here shortly.”

“Hmm.” He looks up from his ingredients to see his grandmother staring at him over her crossword puzzle.

“Yes?”

“You know,” she begins. “When your mother said you were dating Ginny, I had my doubts. Because I adore the woman, and you, but I was worried about this thing between you and your propensity to be transient in your desires for women.”

“Gram—”

"It's not judgment, Michael. Okay, it's a little bit of judgment, but it is mostly concern. Concern for your heart, and for hers. Now, I'm mostly worried for your heart."

Mike sets down the kale and leans against the kitchen counter. “Why is that?”

His grandmother's face softens and her eyes grow a little misty. "You love that woman with all your heart, but you won't show it, and Michael, if you don't, you'll lose her. And you'll never find anything like this ever again."

“That's a little dramatic,” Mike jokes, but the way his heart clenches in his chest lets him know how real her words are.

Gita shakes her head. “Rachel mangled your heart pretty badly. Once for sure, I'm not convinced the second time was anything more than convenience. Just promise me you'll try to recognize this for what it truly is, Michael. You don't get to be in love with your best friend every day.”

Mike hears the back door open and shut and the quick cadence of feet move in his direction. Ginny walks into the kitchen a few moments later, a sheen of sweat on her brow and chest. She glows with exertion and the slick of sweat and the want that thrums through his body nearly weakens his knees.

“Hey,” she smiles brightly and greets his grandmother with a toothy grin. “You're up early, Gita.”

She shakes her paper at Ginny. “If I don't get to the crossword early, my daughter attempts it and gets most of the answers wrong. Plus, I wanted to help with the party.”

Both Mike and Ginny object to this, but Gita waves them off. “If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself from time to time.” She rises from the bar stool and throws them a wink, grabs her coffee and paper, and retreats to the sun deck out back.

Ginny smiles at his retreating grandmother before she points at the ingredients on the counter. “For me?”

Mike nods and pushes the carton of eggs her way. “You want to separate the egg whites for me?”

Ginny grimaces and walks to the sink to wash her hands. “I can try, but do you remember last time?”

Mike laughs. “Yes, I do, but I'll be here the whole time.”

She shrugs and washes and dries her hands before moving to stand beside him close enough that her hip occasionally brushes his.

The first three eggs she cracks are a disaster. She tries to fish the yoke out of the egg whites and ends up piercing the yolk the first time. The second time, she gets tiny pieces of shell into the mix. And the third time she manages to drop half the egg white on the counter.

"My God, rook," Mike laughs. "Okay. Stop doing that. I'll help you." He finishes putting all the ingredients for her smoothie in his mother's VitaMix and sets it on the base, but doesn't turn it on.

He takes an egg in one hand and cracks it, using his other hand to strain away the white of the egg while keeping the yolk intact in the palm of his hand.

“Show off,” Ginny mutters as she watches him perform this flawlessly with six eggs. “What are you going to do with the yolks?”

“Save them for my mom. She'll probably use a couple for an egg wash for the pie she's making.”

Ginny lights up. "Your mom's making a pie, too? Didn't she and your stepdad go to get your gran's cake?"

Mike nods. “That's the party cake though. After everyone leaves, the family has pie and tea.”

“That's a nice tradition,” Ginny remarks quietly. “Your family is lovely, Mike.”

He stares at her for a moment before he washes off his hands at the sink. He walks back to her with a whisk and directs her to beat the eggs while he turns on the blender for her smoothie.

Mike bites back a laugh as he takes in her determined concentration. He walks up behind her and covers her hand with his, showing her the best way to fluff up the egg whites.

He's grateful for the noise of the blender because it blocks out the pounding of his heart that she's surely been able to hear, and his labored breathing from standing so close to her.

He releases her hand and takes a step back, walking over to turn off the VitaMix. He pours the green juice into a cup for her and takes the bowl of eggs over to the stove.

“This tastes just like one at home.” She holds up her glass and smiles.

“Of course. Why wouldn't it?” Mike asks.

“Because we're not at home?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “My mom asked what you liked when she found out you were coming home with me. I told her you were addicted to this smoothie and she asked what was in it, so…”

“I can't believe you didn't tell her not to do that. Mike, some of the stuff in this is—”

“Baker, please,” he interrupts. “You've met my mother. I couldn't have stopped her if I tried.”

Ginny moves to stand beside him at the stove. “Sometimes you're so nice to me. I almost think you like me.”

“And to think, I was going to share my eggs and toast with you. Now I don't think I will.”

“There's my grumpy man. Was wondering where he went to. All this family love and acceptance made you pleasant. Whew! What a relief to know it's not permanent.”

“You think you're so cute, Baker.”

"I know it, and you know it, too." She beams up and him, full teeth and dimples and God he aches to kiss her, to wrap himself in this moment and her pure sunshine.

She ducks her head and winks before heading to the cabinet and pulling out two plates. “Want me to slice the avocado?” she asks.

“I want you to stay away from knives, so no.”

“It was only a little knick last time,” she mutters.

Mike turns off the eye on the stove and squeezes her hip before he takes the plates from her. “Let’s make it no knicks and you just leave the knife work to me, alright?”

They eat breakfast quickly and Ginny helps Mike clean up the kitchen before heading up the stairs to shower. He stays downstairs and heads outside to sit by his grandmother to do his best not to think of Ginny wet and naked.

“Finish your crossword, nenek? Want some more coffee?” he asks her before he sits down.

She pats the cushion beside her and nods. “Yes to the crossword, no to coffee. Sit, Michael, I'm glad you made it this weekend. I told your mother not to pressure you, but I know that fell on deaf ears.”

“I wanted to be here. Truly. Even if you were going to set me up with someone I didn't want.”

“I had no intention of doing that,” Gita states. “Not after the last time I tried it. Geraldine has yet to forgive me for you bailing on her granddaughter.”

Mike winces and turns to his grandmother. “So, you didn't tell mom you were inviting your bridge partners’ eligible grandchildren?”

“I did not.”

“Your daughter is very sneaky, nenek.”

“She comes by it naturally.”

-G&M-

“Baker, I'm going to head downstairs to help my mom set up, alright?” Mike calls out as he finishes tucking in his blue buttoned down.

“‘Kay,” she replies. “I'll be down shortly.”

He glances toward the closed bathroom door. He wonders about her ritual, what she does, what she's wearing. He tugs uneasily as his collar and leaves the room before his mind drifts too far.

When he makes his way downstairs, he finds that most of the necessary tasks have been accomplished. He sees his grandmother outside directing a group of people with instrument cases slung over their shoulders to a makeshift stage at the end of the long, pretty garden.

“You're really going all out for this party, ma,” he says as he takes the satay laden tray from her and places it on the buffet table that's been set up.

“Thank you, Michael.” She gives him a loving pat on the cheek. “You look handsome. Where's your jacket?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “I'll put it on after I help set up.”

She makes a shooing motion with her hands. "Everything else I can get Tom to help with, and your grandmother is having a wonderful time directing people outside."

"There's got to be something I can help with, ma." He can't go back upstairs and wait for Ginny while she's in whatever state of undress with only a door between them, and if he sits and does nothing his mind will wander to the softness of her skin in his hands and the feel of her beaded nipples across his thumbs. He needs a task.

“Oh fine,” she capitulates. “I haven't had a chance to set up the gift table. Put it in the far corner—”

“Behind the couch,” Mike finishes. “Got it.”

It takes him too little time to accomplish the task, setting the gift table off to the side where he knows his grandmother won't look until after the party.

A hand at his elbow startles him. He turns to find Ginny beside him, a wrapped box in hand, and his jacket slung over her arm. Mike's breath catches in his chest as his eyes move slowly down her frame. She's straightened her hair, which is a look he rarely sees. It's pushed away from one side of her face and drapes over her right shoulder. She's in a pretty blue gauzy sundress that fits all the way down to her waist before it flares out just a little.

He wants to trace all the exposed golden brown skin with his lips, run his teeth up her neck and across her collarbone, over the rise of her breasts, and down that taut stomach, he glimpsed this morning. He wants her with an ache he's never experienced before in his life.

“Wow,” he begins, his voice rough. “You look incredible, Ginny.”

She tilts her head and waits for a beat before she gives him a dimpled a smile. "You actually gave me a real compliment. Wow. You feeling magnanimous because it's your grams' b-day?"

He shakes his head and brings a hand up to her jaw. He traces a finger over her jawline to the little stud in her ear. "No, you're always beautiful rookie, often distractingly so."

Mike backs away, takes the wrapped box from her hand and sets it on the table before he does something he can't undo.

She holds out his jacket to him, her bright brown eyes slightly wider than before.

“Thanks,” Mike mutters and takes the jacket, slipping into it with ease.

Her fingers brush the side of his neck as she fixes the collar of his shirt and smoothes out the lapels of his jacket. “This is a good look on you, old man.”

Mike's jaw flexes and he stretches out his hands that itch to wrap around her waist and pull her close. When she steps into him and places a kiss on his cheek, her fingers still lingering on his jacket, all his resolve snaps.

“Ginny,” he says before his lips find hers. He kisses her softly, hesitantly to start. Just brush of warm, dry lips, simple and sweet and something that could be explained away. But, when she steps in closer to him and flattens her hands to his chest, and lets her tongue glide across his bottom lip, Mike assumes all bets are off.

He drags her closer to him by her hips. He spreads his fingers wide as he opens his mouth tastes her. She's minty and sweet and her lips against his own is a sensation he wants to keep for the rest of his life.

She groans and presses her hips to his when the grip of his hands tighten and Mike doesn't know what time and space are outside of Ginny in his arms and the press of her tongue and lips and teeth.

“Michael! Can you get the door, please? What are—oh!”

Mike's awareness comes back to him gradually. He pulls away from the kiss slowly, feeling no shame whatsoever and hoping Ginny doesn't either. He meets her eyes for a brief moment and takes in her heated gaze and flushed cheeks.

He's not sure what they mean, but he's hopeful.

He turns to catch his mother shuffling quickly from the room to the front hallway. He hears her muttering about happiness and grandchildren in Indonesian.

Mike chuckles and squeezes Ginny's hips once more before he drops his hands. He brings a thumb up to her bottom lip and runs it across the slick, puffy surface. She lets her mouth fall open and breathes out across the digit.

He dips his head to kiss her again, taking care to not let it escalate too much. He pulls away and drops a kiss on her left brow. "So maybe there are some things we should talk about, Ginny."

She nods before she ducks her head. She runs her tongue across her lip the way she sometimes does on the mound, and Mike is so wholly distracted, he nearly misses her words. “...probably a good idea to table this until after your grandmother’s party, but yes. Maybe we’ll say the actual words this time.”

He swallows hard and nods. Thinking back over the past few years, that almost that got them to close to this, but neither of them was ready to deal with the consequences then.

He thinks they are now.

He steps away from her just as his mother returns to the room, a cadre of his grandmother's friends in tow.

“Michael, you remember Geraldine, Esther, and Mary, right?” He nods at his mother and does his best to ignore Geraldine’s scathing gaze. His mother continues on. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet Ginny Baker.”

“Hi,” Ginny says as she steps forward, hand extended. “It’s nice to meet you.” The women greet her warmly and start to leave, but Mary stays behind for a moment.

“You’re even prettier in person than on the TV,” Mary pipes up. “You know, usually it’s the other way around, but not for you, sugar.” She pats Ginny on the cheek and shuffles out of the room behind the rest of the women.

Ginny turns to Mike and giggles. “This is going to be an interesting party.”

-G&M-

“You haven’t offered me a dance yet, Michael,” Gita says as she sits down beside him at his empty table. His suit jacket is draped over the back of the chair, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up his arm. His eyes drift from Ginny, who’s standing in the middle of a group of little old ladies, smiling and nodding with an ease her seldom sees in large groups.

“Sorry, nenek. Would you like to dance?”

“Eh,” she shrugs. “My feet are tired. Maybe later. But, you should make that same offer to your pretty girlfriend stuck in that crowd of geezers across the way.”

Mike laughs and shakes his head. “I thought they’re your friends, grams.”

"They are," she tsks. "Doesn't mean they're not a bunch of old fuddy-duddies. Besides, I asked the band to play something really nice to dance to. Now shoo. Stop sitting over here and staring at her when you can stare at her up close."

Mike doesn’t argue, simply gets up and makes his way across the lighted backyard. He catches Ginny’s eye and smiles when he sees her take a deep breath.

“Good evening ladies,” Mike says with a smile. “Do you mind if I steal Ginny away for a moment?”

There are various sounds of ascent (along with a sound of derision from Geraldine) as Mike pulls her away from the group of women.

"I was totally fine, you know," Ginny says as she falls into his shoulder. "But thank you. They were starting to get a little meddlesome."

“Oh yeah?” Mike moves them in the direction of the makeshift dance floor where his mother and stepfather are currently dancing to a Coltrane tune. He pulls Ginny into his arms and spins her once.

Her mouth drops open and she laughs. "Mike Lawson, are you willingly dancing? You didn't even ask me if I wanted to."

He stops moving and takes a step back from her. He holds out a hand and asks. “Ginny, would you like to dance?”

She rolls her eyes but takes his hand anyway. He pulls her close, enjoying the sensation of her body flush with his own. She rests her head against the side of his own; her breath tickles his ear. He dips his head and lets his mouth trace over her shoulder, up her neck.

The band starts to play the Coltrane’s rendition of My One and Only Love and Mike looks up to find his grandmother smiling at him.

“Thank you for coming with me this weekend, Ginny.” Mike pulls back to look at her. She's got on little heels that make her even closer to his height. He leans his head down and brushes his forehead against hers. “Turns out, my grandmother had no intention of setting me up with anyone, but my mother is very sneaky.”

Ginny laughs and breath tickles across his cheek. “Devious women run your life, it seems.”

“Are you including yourself in that number?”

Ginny bumps her noses against his before she gives him a soft kiss. “I don't know. You haven't asked me.”

“What do you want, rookie?”

She sighs against his lips before she cranes her head back to look him in the eye. “You want to do this now?”

Mike shrugs. “Now, later, a month from now, it’s your choice, Gin. If you want this to happen now, I'm all yours. If you want to wait until we’re through with this season and they hand up my jersey, I'll wait. If you don't want more, then I'll still be your best friend because more than anything, that's what makes me the happiest. Though kissing you is pretty incredible.

“I could've come home alone. I could've not said that we were dating, but it was so easy and it sounded so right. The most right of anything I've thought of since I met you. And there's been other women, and mistakes along the way, but since I've met you, Ginny Baker, there hasn't been anyone else who's owned my heart the way you have. So whatever you want Ginny. I want to be with you, but you call the shots, rook.”

Ginny's lips descend onto Mike's and she slides her fingers through his hair. They stop dancing, stop spinning around the floor, completely wrapped up in one another.

“I'm tired of waiting,” Ginny says when she pulls away. “Three years, having to watch you be other women, then with Rachel, wondering if all of this was just one-sided. What took you so long, old man?”

“Somebody has a rule about dating players.”

“Which you didn't seem to give a damn about when you schemed up this weekend. Tell the truth, your mom was in on this, wasn't she?”

“No,” Mike laughs. “Though I'm thinking she's way sneakier than I give her credit for. I'm positive she wouldn't have let me bring anyone else home.”

“I'm glad for it, Mike. I mean, I think we would've gotten there eventually, but, the push didn't hurt.”

“No, it didn't.”

-G&M-

Ginny perches on Mike's lap at the kitchen table as they have tea and pie with his grandmother, mother, and stepfather.

“Thank you for a lovely party everyone,” Gita says around a bite of coconut custard. “You make an old lady feel quite loved.”

“I don't see any old ladies here, nenek.” Mike holds a forkful of pie up to Ginny’s lips and tries his best not to watch the journey of her tongue and lips around the tines of the silverware.

“Gajah mati meninggalkan gading, harimau mati meninggalkan belang, manusia mati meninggalkan nama. I'm happy you've found your happiness, Michael.”

Ginny and Mike say their goodnights to his family and make their way hand-in-hand up the stairs to the guest room.

“What did your grandmother say downstairs?” Ginny asks as Mike wraps her in his arms.

“She said ‘when an elephant dies it leaves its ivory, a tiger leaves its stripes and a man his name.’”

Ginny scrunches her face and Mike chuckles. "It basically means what we do in life is how we'll be remembered, so leave behind something that matters."

“Ah,” she says with a tug at his beard. “I get it. Your grandma is great.”

“That she is, Baker, but I don't want to talk about her anymore.” He dips his head and presses his lips to hers. “I don't know how I went so long without kissing you, Ginny.”

“Hmm.” Ginny shrugs. “Well, harness some of that self-control, because we’re not having sex in your parents’ house.”

Mike stills for a beat before he wraps his arms around her a little tighter. “Okay, I can live with that.”

“You can?” Mike doesn't miss the incredulous tone of voice.

“Yeah, Gin. Sex isn't the only reason I want to be with you.”

"I didn't mean it like that," she insists. "Though I'm surprised you're willing to wait because I really don't want to wait, but I also don't want to have to be quiet or worry about getting out of bed anytime soon after we do have sex."

“Ginny,” Mike groans. “Please stop talking about sex right now.”

"Sorry, but you should know, I really liked waking up to you this morning. And feeling you pressed against my ass and your hands on me. At first, I assumed it was maybe just a morning thing, but—Mike!"

He pulls her down with him onto the bed. She straddles his legs and he takes her mouth as his hands find her thighs, pushing them apart to bring her into the cradle of his hips.

“I didn't actually mean to feel you up, Baker,” he gets out between kisses. “I thought I was having a vivid dream, and you kept moaning my name—”

“No, I didn't,” she says as she rocks her hips over his growing cock.

“You most certainly did. Three times. Guess you were dreaming about me too, huh?”

"Probably. It's not that unusual, to be honest."

Mike groans. “You're really trying to kill me, aren't you?”

They make out with a fervor, trading nips and licks and fevered moans. Mike’s hands travel up the warm expanse of her thighs beneath her dress while Ginny’s nails scratch at Mike’s lower stomach beneath his shirt.

“Gin,” he pants. “If you don't want to do this, we should stop, because—”

“I said no sex, but that doesn't mean anything else is off the table.”

“Fuck me, Ginny.”

“Not that, but something similar?” Her fingers swiftly undo the buttons of his dress shirt, but Mike catches her hands be she can finish.

“Gin.” His voice is steady and serious and makes Ginny sit a little taller on him. “I want you. So much. More than I want air in fact, but I'm not going anywhere. I swear. Just a little bit of you is not going to be enough for me, maybe we should try to get some rest and then, tomorrow when we get back to San Diego, I'm not letting you out of bed until BP on Monday morning.”

Ginny shifts in his lap and her lets out a strangled curse. She nods and swoops down for a quick kiss before she climbs off his lap.

“I very much like that plan, Lawson.”

-G&M-

“Mike.”

Mike buries his face in something soft and smelling of ginger.

“Mike.”

He groans when the soft, round globes of her ass press against his dick. He shifts his hips forward and revels in the sounds she makes.

“Oh, fuck, Mike. Let's drive home right now.”

His eyes pop open and he finds himself in almost the same exact position as the night previous morning.

His hands are beneath her shirt; the tips of his fingers brush her nipples as his hands bear the heft of them.

“Gin,” he groans. “I'm sorry. I didn't—fuck Gin. Stop moving I'm trying to apologize.” He takes his hands from her breasts and she groans at the loss.

“Mike, I want you, too.”

Mike drags his body away from the perfect pressure of her ass and flops onto his back. His cock tightens when she rolls over and tucks herself into his side. She places her warm, calloused pitching hand in the middle of his bare chest and plays with the sparse hair there.

He groans when she tweaks his nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She leans over and takes his neglected nipple between her teeth.

Mike's hips pop up, rutting against nothing. “Gin…”

She pulls away from his nipple and sends her mouth and teeth up his collarbone and neck with electric nips that pulse through his dick.

“I want you, too, Mike,” she breathes into his ear as her teeth nip at his earlobe. “And I know that if I say no, or stop, or wait, you'll do it, and I'll do the same. But don't feel guilty for wanting me in your sleep. I want you the same way. It felt good waking up with you pressed against me. I'm not afraid of you, or your apparently really big dick.”

“God _fuck_ , Gin,” he groans at her words. She throws a leg across his and moves to sit astride his lap. She notches her cloth covered cunt over his pajama covered dick and lets out a moan that will inevitably live in Mike’s system for the rest of his days.

“Fuck you're wet,” he pants. “I can feel it through my— _ah fuck_ —you're gonna make me come in my pants, Ginny. I haven't done that since—”

Mike’s words stop abruptly as Ginny sheds the threadbare shirt she's wearing. He's presented with her perfect brown skin, and high tits topped with deep brown nipples that make his mouth water.

He levers himself off the bed and reaches for her ass, helping her find a rhythm that works while his mouth descends on her left breast.

“Mike, Mike, Mike,” she chants with each flick of his tongue and roll of her hips. He can tell she's trying to line herself up on his dick a certain way, but can't quite manage.

He takes a hand from her ass and brings it between her thighs. He sucks hard on her nipple as his busy fingers rub at the obvious bundle of nerves he can make out through her tiny shorts.

“Fuck,” she hisses. “Fuck. You're—ah!”

He bites down on her nipple like he did with hers and her entire body shudders against him. She's soaked a wet spot to the front of his pants and he's about to come from the sight and sound and pressure of her.

She reaches between her legs and squeezes his length through his thin pants and embarrassingly that's all it takes for Mike to come with a grunt around her nipple.

His hand between her legs keeps teasing, eking out every last bit of her orgasm until she's trembling against him.

She stills his wrist and moves her upper body back. Mike moves his mouth from her breast; his chest rapidly rises and falls.

She pushes his shoulders until he's reclined back on the bed and lays her body over his, bare chest to bare chest. She looks down into his face and smiles, her eyes hazy and wide.

“So that happened,” she says then giggles. “We need to go home. That just made me want you more.”

Mike grunts in agreement and reaches around to squeeze her ass. “I couldn't agree more.”

-G&M-

“Thank you so much for having me,” Ginny says as she hugs Belinda.

“You're welcome here anytime, Ginny. Even without Mike. Just come by whenever,” Belinda replies, drawing a chuckle from Mike.

“Your preference has been noted, ma.” Mike brushes a kiss across his mother's cheek and only winces a little when she pats him hard on the cheek.

“You’re a good man, Michael. Aku bangga padamu.”

“Terima kasih ibu. And one day, we’re going to talk about how sneaky you and nenek both are.”

Belinda’s face goes blank and she gives a not-so-casual shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There were never going to be any other women, were there, ma?”

Belinda sniffs and picks at an invisible piece of lint on Mike’s shirt. “I just passed along what I heard from your grandmother.”

“Who apparently never said that to you. You know--”

"Diam," his mother responds in a low, but fervent tone. "It doesn't matter anyway because you're with your Ginny and I couldn't be happier. Be good to one another, Michael."

Mike nods and looks over and Ginny who's laughing at whatever his grandmother is telling her. When he sidles up next to her, the two women stop laughing and smile benignly. Mike wraps an arm low around her hips and pulls her into his side.

“I hope you had a wonderful birthday, nenek.” Mike leans down and kisses his grandmother’s cheek.

“I did. Made better by Ginny being here. And you, as well. You’ll call me more often, yes? I made Ginny promise me you’ll call me together.”

Mike nods obediently. “Yes, grandma. I promise.”

“You’re a good boy. Now shoo. I’m sure the two of you are tired and have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Mike's mouth drops open and he cuts a look at Ginny whose cheeks are the reddest he's ever seen them. "Okay, we're going now."

They wave their goodbyes and beat a quick retreat to Mike’s car, getting in and buckling up with haste. As Mike pulls out of the driveway, Ginny bursts into peals of laughter with tears streaking down her face.

“Your grandmother is such a perv. I now understand that you come by it naturally.”

“Ginny.”

_FIN_


End file.
